Elucidatory Eyes
by usnavychic
Summary: What happens when our favorite couple doesn't rely on words...


She comes to his apartment in the evening, her longing for him stronger than ever.  
  
As is their wont of appearing in each other's hallways unannounced, he expects to see her as he peers through the peephole. But, what he does not expect to see is this particular look in her eyes. It is the look of a woman. Just a woman. Not a Marine, not a best friend, not a partner or adversary, but a woman. They had been so many things to each other over the last seven years but never had they simply allowed themselves to be man and woman. That was too raw a state for either of them; they both had too much from which to protect each other. This look renders him speechless as he steps aside, permitting her entrance into the room.  
  
He recognizes no danger in her eyes, no terror, no concern - as was so often the case when she appeared unexpectedly at his apartment. Therefore, he is not worried, merely curious. He turns to face her straight on with a gentle smile tugging at his lips.  
  
He sees the myriad of emotions flashing in her round hazelnut eyes - apprehension, fear, resolution, inquisition, adoration, and love. He clearly identifies each one but is unsure of what motivates their emergence. He notices the little golden flecks that surround her pupils - they are what give her eyes character - make them dark with determination or dance with playfulness. Tonight, the former is the case.  
  
How he loves to look at her. He knows deep within him that he wants to be with her forever; that he can see himself growing old beside only her. What a wonderful mother she would be; what a perfect family they could create! But, he has not yet wholly admitted to himself that this is fact. His semi-conscious knowledge of his love for her manifests itself only in the pit in his stomach and the physical ache in his chest whenever she is with another man or when she is in danger or in pain. She had asked him once to let go, and he had wanted to. He often still detests himself for not being strong enough for her then or since. The same doubts and trepidations resurface as they always do when he thinks about her this way - it is against regulations - and it is their careers, and the military lifestyle, that dictate the people that they have become. How do they dare put that at risk? And how can they risk something arguably as great - their friendship? He has never had a friend like her - no one willing to risk life and limb and career and sanity to remain loyal to him. And he has never felt so loyal to another that he would do the same. Only with her. He had told her that once.  
  
But, standing there in the soft glow of his studio, with her wide candescent eyes pleading with him to . . . well, to let go, he feels himself slipping away. And he wants nothing more than to slip away into those eyes.  
  
She, in turn, petrified of what she is about to risk, looks him in the eye. Those eyes - they are shining a near-transparent green despite the dim light of the loft. She looks into them now for strength and support. But also to search them . . . will she find love there? The few times she has allowed herself to look for love in his eyes, she has found a wall - an insurmountable barrier. Yet, she has always felt that he could read her - his eyes constantly tearing down her own barriers and deciphering that which is inside her. And tonight that feeling is no different. But, if he could really read her that well, why has it come to this? Should he not already know?  
  
However, she has not yet managed to get out any words. She silently curses herself for not being prepared. She should have anticipated that just the site of him, the intensity of his gaze, would, per par, weaken her knees and scramble her brain. Yet, she is comfortable here, looking up at him. Yes, she had come unannounced; yes, she has not said a word; and yes, she has no battle plan. But, he is her best friend, and with him she is comfortable.  
  
Although she has tried in the past, and it has gotten her nothing but embarrassment and frustration, she just cannot take it anymore. He is the one she wants; she is in love with him and has known it for so long. They have played too many games and have ducked away from clear communication repeatedly. No more! She needs to, for her own sanity, entice an aberration.  
  
She knows that any conversation about their relationship has the very real and likely potential to turn bitter. But, not tonight. Looking into his slanted deep-set eyes, giving him her whole world, she sees something so rare in him - pure gentleness. Not that he is not a tender man; he most certainly is when it is appropriate. But, in him, gentleness is so often mixed with pity or determination. Tonight, she can see that he understands now as a time to be gentle.  
  
Throwing caution to the wind, she steps forward, leaning her head back just a touch as to keep their eyes locked. Reaching out with both hands, one grabs his hand while the other she rests, palm down, on his cheek. She adds a slight smile to match his.  
  
The heat immediately begins to rise to his face at her touch and his breath momentarily catches in his throat. The feel of her skin on his has always had this affect on him. In the past, it's causing his composure to falter often made him feel uncomfortable. But tonight, it is different - he does not at all mind the slight feeling of uncontrollability; if he cannot trust her, he would never trust anyone. He gives her hand a light squeeze as he notices the corners of her mouth turn up. To his face, he raises his hand to cover hers - so small and delicate, strong and capable. He moves this hand to his lips to kiss her palm and he sees the subsequent shiver run through her body.  
  
She releases a shallow breath and almost lets fly a nervous and quizzical laugh at the touch of his lips. He replaces her hand on his face and she glows with a genuine smile and the amber glints in her dark eyes. In turn, his eyes become slits as his lips spread across his face in a wide grin - the one that always sends her heart to her throat. She continues to stare up at him. With her own hand, she pulls his head down to her and they touch - forehead to forehead and nose to nose - simply beaming at each other.  
  
He feels her warm breath on his face and wants nothing more than to take it from her. But, he does not have the chance - it is she who takes it from him. She angles her chin up just a touch and her lips brush his. How soft and luscious, firm and inviting. She then takes his top lip between hers for a brief moment and pulls back ever so slightly - their eyes never leaving each other. His mouth hangs ajar, incredulous as to what just happened. He no longer feels her breath on him, and he realizes that his lungs are also full of stale air.  
  
She anxiously seeks a reaction in his vast eyes. And when he leans in and takes her in a kiss, sweet and slow, she does not think that she can keep from laughing or crying. Fortunately, she lets herself fall into his embrace, further into his eyes. Yes, his eyes, they remain locked into hers. They kiss - their lips in a deliberate and delicate dance. And they look - their eyes constantly trained on each other.  
  
He moves his hands to her waist, then to her back. She pulls his head closer to her, running her hands through his hair, intensifying the kiss - their eyes ever keeping watch.  
  
Time is lost as they absorb each other in their eyes and with their lips. He carries her to the bedroom and lays her softly on the bed. It is here that their lips part - her head lying on the pillow, his hovering over her with his feet still on the floor - chests heaving, words threatening to pour from both of them.  
  
Then, she sees it, in the depths of his sea-green eyes. There it is - unmistakable! And it isn't simply concupiscence. She cocks her head to one side and unconsciously allows her jaw to fall somewhat at this enlightenment.  
  
He is puzzled at the sudden lightening of her eyes, a look of recognition taking hold there. Subsequently, his expression inquires.  
  
"You love me," she says. It was not a question; there had not been a hint of sarcasm, playfulness, or accusation in her tone. It was a simple statement of truth. And they had been the first words she had spoken since wishing him a good night at the office early that evening.  
  
He remains speechless. How can she be so sure of something to which he has never quite admitted? But she said it, and she is correct. If he cannot hide it from her, he certainly cannot deny it within himself anymore. He had been craven in the past, but the time for that is long gone. "I do," he replies, breathlessly, dropping to a seated position next to her, dazed at his own confession.  
  
Her heart soars. It soars at ascertaining the love in him, at cracking his barriers, at his averment having come so easily, and the fact that his eyes are still locked on hers. If there is a time when he might break the gaze, to muster the strength to rebuild his defenses, to abrogate his confession, now is that time. But, no, he remains with her.  
  
Suddenly, she descries something not yet seen tonight in his eyes. She searches him to identify it - he is questioning again, but there is also a touch of fear. After a quick moment of contemplation, she understands. Hardly believing his lack of confidence, she sits up and brings her nose to within an inch of his, a sigh escaping her lips. "Harm," she susurrates, unable to withhold a smile as her eyes continue to dance, "I love you." She nods her head to assuage his fears.  
  
The dazed look ever remains on his face. "You love me," he repeats disbelievingly. But he had seen it time and time again in the sparkle of her eyes - and it is still there. After all these years and all the chances he had blown, she still loves him!  
  
He laughs right out loud and his beatific face elicits her to join him. They finally break eye contact as the giggling gets happily out of control. Their laughter fills the room with auspiciousness as years of duplicity and subsequent strain are released, and relief and overwhelming joy take over. After a few moments, he quiets himself, although not able to wipe the huge grin away. With the remains of disbelief in his eyes, he recaptures her gaze. Again, she follows suit and quiets.  
  
He takes her shoulders; his eyes open wide with intensity as his smile all but disappears. "I love you." This time it is a statement, a declaration, and the avowal makes her heart jump. Both of their faces erupt in smiles once more and their lips resume the dance. And with the comfort of their newfound sincerity, they are able to fully and genuinely coalesce.  
  
He awakes to the ambrosiac smell of her lustrous hair and silky skin.  
  
She awakes and her eyes shoot open, confirming that it had NOT been a dream. She looks him in the eye, in silence, with a faint smile.  
  
The sun streams through the open window, hazelling her eyes, accentuating the golden speckles. His evident smile swells and they both all but laugh at what they see reflecting in each other's eyes - contentment. She replaces her head on his chest, closes her eyes and sighs, "I could wake up like this every morning." They lay together for several minutes, she playing with the hair on his chest, and his hand continuing to marvel at the smoothness of her back.  
  
'Every morning,' he repeats internally. Yes, he would gladly wake up to this morning every day - the memory of his lovemaking to this woman continuing to intoxicate him. He excuses himself and begins rooting though his top dresser drawer.  
  
She pays him little mind - burying her head in his pillow, rolling around in the bed - HIS BED! - reveling in his scent. She contemplates dressing in his sheets and a giggle escapes her lips.  
  
When he finally turns around, she is lying face down diagonally across the bed, the sheets in a tangled heap around her. He lets out a laugh and climbs in, attempting to straighten her out. "What are you doing, Marine?"  
  
She looks up at him with another giggle. Despite the smile gracing his face, she detects a seriousness deep in his eyes that sobers her slightly. Her eyes implore him and, in response, he allows the small black velvet box to become visible in his hand. 


End file.
